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This is my confessional.
I had a bizarre dream last night, one unlike any others in which I fall, or fly, or pull a hapless relative along as a frightful enemy pursues us.
The beginning of the dream is vague, but fraught with violence—I am some kind of law enforcement, a large fight broke out on the street, someone has been shot, the attacker is running away. Men I know run ahead of me, through a large room with a fireplace at one end and nothing but the outdoors at the other.
Many people live in this house, I think it might be a commune of some sort, there is a large, arrestingly handsome man standing in our path, staring open-mouthed at our chase, and I recognize him as a well-meaning dimwit, one close to retardation. There is a clawfoot tub with a shower curtain pulled around it on the wall to our left, and as the men and I pursue the stranger with the gun, who is heading for the road that runs past the open end of the room, we must dart between the dimwit and the person in the shower.
The man in front me tumbles, not as nimble as the rest of us, and grabs at the curtain to steady himself. Instead he pulls it down with him, and a beautiful Asian woman (I know her from somewhere and that she's a little younger than I, perhaps I live in the commune as well) shrieks and flattens herself against the wall. The men continue ahead of me while I stop to help the woman regain some privacy. The dimwit is erect, watching all of this, and I wonder who would care if I fucked him here, with people milling around and wondering about the men who just came pelting through their midst.
The woman clambers out of the tub and crouches beside it. I see no robe, no towel, and no clothing with which to cover her, but the aroused dimwit offers his shirt. I want to lick the head of his large cock as it strains against his jeans, to take it down my throat and worry it like a dog worries a bone. I hold out my hand to the woman and the dimwit walks away. She stands, still naked, and thanks me. She's incredibly pale, and I think of Japanese geishas, though I don't know this woman's nationality.
"Was the chase ?" she asks, her expression at once demure and suggestive.
I think she's referring to the dimwit's cock, and I nod dumbly, unable to speak for the arousal that floods my body. She wants him, too. That's why she won't clothe herself, I think. I take the shirt and she lifts her arms, so I help her put it over her head. We're friends, or at least acquaintances, so think nothing of it when the backs of my knuckles brush her breasts or her hairless mound as I pull the shirt down. I give her a playful slap on the bit of round ass left unprotected by the shirt, as though to say, Off with you, kiddo.
She turns to me and presses her soft, supple body against mine, her dark eyes welling with tears, and whispers, "It was all for you."
She runs away, leaving me staring at her retreating back, my palm tingling, and confusion knotting in my belly. I've only made love to men. I want to apologize, but why? For misunderstanding her intentions? For rejecting a friend?
Later I am playing checkers with another member of the commune when the woman appears at my side. She greets us both, and I feel a wave of wet heat coursing from my chest to my pussy, soaking my panties. She is dressed in tight-fitting cotton pants and a sheer white t-shirt that hugs her small breasts. I find my mouth watering, wanting to take them between my lips and nurse like a child. Her pants are as yellow as duckling feathers, and as soft when she leans against me. I smile and press my head into her thigh, careful that it appears I am only giving her a friendly hug, Everyone else is on the other side of the room, near the fireplace, talking and huddling against the cold that drifts in from the open end of the building, and I slip my hand up the back of the woman's leg, running my fingers along the tight cleft of her buttocks before slipping them between her thighs. I can feel her swollen labia, the slit between, and the clit budding at the top. I run my fingers over her pussy and the fabric between our flesh grows damp. I turn my head slightly and inhale her tangy scent, knowing my checkers opponent to be completely ignorant of the illicit touching just inches away. I see the dimwit again, sitting by the fire, and wonder if I could make love to them both at once. I have never made love to another woman before. I hope she'll be pleased that my cunt is as smooth as hers, that my body is eager and fit. She is running her fingers through my hair, holding me close as I play checkers with one hand, and gain a lover with the other.
We have to wait until the evening meal to meet. The dining area is visible from the common room where I saw her naked and later fondled her through her clothes. Our clothes our gone before I know what has happened to them and I am stretched out on top of her as she reclines on a chaise lounge, still wearing her panties. I suckle on her tongue as her fingers tease my tipples. I can't grasp enough of her flesh, kneading her breasts one second, pulling her shoulder-length hair the next, stroking her taut belly or digging my fingers into her soft buttocks the next. The frantic gyrations of our hips aren't licentious enough for me, so I back off.
"No," I tell her, "I have to be lying down." I want to be able to pinch and twist my swollen nipples while she licks me. I want to be able to hold her hair and slam her face roughly into my pussy until her eyes water and she spills hot tears onto my sensitive flesh. I want to be in control.
Her almond eyes narrow slightly as she quickly kneels between my thighs, spread open for her, yawning wetly only for her. She hooks her elbows under my knees and throws them over my head.
"Wait," I say, panicking, but even though this position is uncomfortable I can watch her face as she licks up and down my aching cunt. Her tongue is cool, making me shiver with chill and ecstasy every time she plunges it into my open pussy. I want to grab her head and press my cunt into her mouth and shriek out the joy of being fucked by a woman, but instead my arms are splayed out to the sides, my hands opening and fisting, my whole body shakes as the woman sucks my pussy, and all I can do is gasp.
I'm so close, so close to climax when she puts my legs down, slaps my hand away when I try to touch myself, and settles on the floor. I think excitedly that we're about to grind our slippery cunts together, I want to, but I wait for her to move. Our pussies are nearly touching, my hips quivering with the need to crush myself to her, but I rest on my elbows and watch as she reaches a hand towards me, rubs her palm over the tight bundle of nerves in my belly, skims her fingers down my dewy slit, and slowly inserts two fingers into me.
My body curls in on itself, wholly focused on how her fingers rotate and press into what I know is my G-spot, but in this dream world it has never been touched before. A woman is going to make me come for her, come so hard, I think. She's fucking me with her fingers now, intently, and I buck my hips against her.
I want to touch her, I want this to be dirty, crude, something that will shock me when it's over. I want to call her pussy a twat, to have her slap me around and never stop touching my sensitive pussy. I run my fingers along the waistband of her white cotton underwear, and ask, "Inside or outside the panties?" I don't know why I ask other than that I've never done this before. I want her to be pleased.
"Outside," she gasps, her cinnamon-tipped breasts jiggling as her hand moves faster and faster in my cunt. She's going to make me come, and soon.
My fingers find the clit poking against the moist fabric and pinch. My lover gasps, shudders, her eyes close and her fingers still. I brush my fingers over the nub, feeling it nub swell little by little as it rubs against the cotton. I move my hand faster and faster, inhaling deeply as the smell of her pussy grows stronger in the air. The people eating dinner glance at us occasionally; some of them are aroused by our fucking, and slip their hands under the table to their neighbors in petty mimicry of how my lover and I coax each other to bliss.
My lover opens her eyes and orders, "Make me come, baby. Make me climax all over your fingers, baby girl."
A feverish lust suffuses my whole body, and I push her onto her back, one leg bent so that I can straddle it while I rub her pussy. I hump into her leg and she joggles her heel so that her knee bumps against the heated flesh when I grind against her. My fingers are moving at lightning speed, my eyes narrowed to slits as I concentrate. She isn't moving except to help stimulate my pussy, she stares at me, breathing hard through her nose, and I wish I had a giant cock so that I could fuck her so hard, fuck her until she was limp and unable to come anymore and make her scream my name.
I lean down and capture a nipple between my lips, sucking on it roughly while I pinch and twist her little clit. She cradles my head gently, finally moaning as I grind my palm against her pussy and press my fingertips into her opening, hindered only by the wet, sticky fabric covering it. I use my teeth and worry one nipple, then the other the way I wanted to worry the dimwit's cock. I suck as much of the sweet flesh into my mouth as I can; I love this, I love her, I love fucking her. I titillate the gumdrop tits with my tongue as I would her clit, my hand moving so fast between her legs that my muscles are burning, and she comes, her hips snapping irregularly against the heel of my hand while her pussy clenches under my fingers.
I can barely see for the haze of my desire. I made her come, I did as she asked, I made her come and now she will make me come. When she lets me, I will suck the juices from her panties and lick her sweet and tart pussy like candy.
"Stand up," she says. "Spread your legs."
I do so and she kneels between them, curving her arms around my thighs.
She looks into my eyes, and asks, "Are you my whore?"
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I nod, and she scrapes her teeth over my cunt. I nearly climax, and my knees threaten to collapse.
"I asked if you're my whore."
I'm humiliated, and aroused, and filled. "I'm your whore," I say quietly.
"Slut," she says, and closes her lips over my clit. She sucks at it, laps at it like a cat cleaning its kittens, voraciously, mercilessly, forcing cries from my throat that I never thought I could make. I'm loud enough to attract the attention of the stupid, sinfully handsome man who comes to the doorway into the room, touches himself once and then disappears. There's a glint in his eyes—I may be wrong about him. My time with him will come later.
But now.
Now, oh god, now. Now my lover is licking at my dripping pussy, sucking at it, clenching my buttocks and pressing her index finger against my asshole. I fill my hands with my own breasts, larger than hers, darker than hers, heavier than hers, and crush them in my fingers. My nipples are electrified; I twist and pull them frantically, quaking as they send pulsing signals to my vulnerable, tender pussy.
She pulls my labia apart and shoves her tongue deep into my cunt, rubbing her nose over my raw clit. I cry out, feel wetness run out of my core and onto her waiting tongue. She withdraws, does it again. Again. Again. Fucking me as I bounce sluttishly on my toes, desperately wanting to drive her deeper into me.
"Fuck me," I pant, frenetic. "Never stop fucking me."
"Whose pussy is this?" she asks roughly.
The people in the dining room can hear her, and they await my answer. I've never been more embarrassed.
She slaps my open cunt, and I cry out my lust, fingers tightening unconsciously on my turgid nipples.
"Whose is it?"
I look into her almond-shaped eyes and answer, "Yours."
She responds by pressing her thumb against my clit and the little finger of her other hand into my ass.
"Ah!" I squeal, a new wave of desire weakening my bones, and my knees buckle.
My lover pulls me to the floor on top of her; I am on my hands and knees, arching and curling my back as she fucks me with her tongue. I am grinding, humping my pussy onto her face, uncaring of whether or not she can breathe as she eats my cunt ravenously. My mouth is open, my eyes feel pressed against my skull, I am full of this woman, of her fingers and tongue and fucking. I'll do anything for her, anything to make this last forever.
"You're going to make me come," I gasp, rubbing my clit against her teeth.
"Fuck my fingers, whore baby," she says, a command, a challenge, and drives her fingers into my cunt.
Her lips and tongue and teeth fly over my pussy as she shakes her head, the sounds of wet flesh filling my ears as I cry out. Her fingers, three of them now, are pounding against that rough, sensitive spot, and I know that I'm going to do more than come, I'm going to drown my lover's open mouth with the proof of my love, with the nectar of the pussy she so skillfully manipulates. It is her pussy.
"You going to come for me?" she asks, nipping my flesh.
I wail helplessly and buck my hips against her. My cunt is yours!
She nips me again, this time on my burning clit. "Is that sweet little pussy going to squirt?"
"Oh god, yes!" I pant, fucking myself back onto her fingers.
She pulls her fingers out and slaps my cunt. I cry her name, feeling empty, and she plunges her fingers in again.
"Come for me, dirty girl," she says huskily, "come all over my face, bitch baby."
"I'm going to come!" I cry, throwing my head back, feeling a climax roiling and crashing at her command.
"Who are you?" she demands as she thrusts her fingers into my cunt, so open, so raw, so sensitive that it almost hurts. She bites my clit.
I'm your whore, I want to say, but my throat is trapped in a scream of purest ecstasy, of utter release, and a dam opens as my pussy clenches on her fingers, over and over again, juices pouring out of me, my whole body shaking violently as I come, because she wants me to.
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